Bard Students at Global Food Crisis Conference

Before you begin reading my delightful blog, be sure to watch this awesome Recyclemania video (two soda cans wondering about the afterlife)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1uK31ubS10E

And now for this week's sustainability news. A group of hardy Bard students, including yours truly, piled into the van last Saturday and drove to a Global Food Crisis Conference organized by SUNY students. My own personal breakfast food crisis was averted at the registration table, by BATHTUB-SIZED BASKETS of the most delicious muffins the world has ever seen. Reeking of cinnamon and dribbling crumbs, I plopped into my auditorium seat, not sure quite what to expect.

The keynote speaker came on stage. His name was Eric Holt-Gimenez, and he spoke with great passion and statistical accuracy about the evils wreaked by the Industrial Agri-Foods Complex. In 2008, food riots shook the world. These riots occurred not only in places you'd expect (Haiti and Nigeria) but also in Milwaukee and Italy. The media blamed climate change and financial speculation. But when you look at the numbers, 2008 was actually a year of record crops. Why were there no grain reserves? Why did the USA, one of the planet's richest countries, experience an increase from 36 to 50 million food-insecure citizens? Why can't we just feed the hungry?

It turns out 2008 was not only a year of record hunger, but also a year of record profits for the industrial agri-foods complex. Monopolies control prices and prevent the formation of grain reserves to ensure there is always plenty of demand. First world countries pump billions of dollars of subsidies into our industrial farms, which pollute the watershed, destroy the topsoil, and dangerously diminish biodiversity. Since we focus on growing only a few crops, our world food system could get a big hole knocked in it by a single unlucky disease (a la Irish Potato Famine.)

The subsidies make the products of industrialized farming so cheap it's hard for sustainable farmers to compete. When we ship our food to developing countries and sell it (usually at below the cost of production, so much for the free market) the native farmers cannot compete and go right out of business. We have essentially colonized their markets by flooding them with our artificially low-priced goods. In a very short period of time, developing countries have gone from a net food export of one billion to a net food import of eleven billion; there's twelve billion dollars worth of dependency for you. For this reason, "Food Sovereignty" has become a rallying cry for poor countries loosing their political autonomy due to reliance on foreign food.

Meanwhile, the focus of our farming system on a few cash crops means Americans are eating increasingly more unhealthy diets. Fresh fruits and vegetables suffer at the expense of endless calorie-rich, nutrient-poor, corn-syrup based products and processed foods. The resulting obesity, of course, causes enormous drag on our health care system.

Food issues, despite drastic environmental and health implications, remain low on the priority list of the world's leaders. Most of the world's leaders did not grace the UN World Food Summit with their presence. In fact, the sole significant result of the Summit was to drop the Millennium Development Goal to end hunger by 2025, (the goal was deemed too ambitious.)

After the talk, the speaker offered copies of his book, Food Rebellions! Crisis and the Hunger for Justice, for the signing. I asked him, “What first got you interested in these issues?” He looked at me, a handsome face, iron-grey hair, pouches drooping under tired eyes.

“I worked with farmers in Latin America on sustainable agriculture systems,” he explained. (He was originally trained as an agronomist.) “I was working in Central America when a terrible hurricane destroyed their agriculture systems. The sustainable farmers went to the government and said, 'Since we have to rebuild anyway, why not rebuild our way?' They had scientific evidence that the sustainable way was working better. But they were completely ignored. It was then that I realized that being right isn't enough. You can't just figure out the right way to do things; you have to start a political movement to convince people of what you've discovered. And that's what I'm working on now.”

After the keynote speech, we heard from a farmer-activist who moved from what he called “New York Shitty,” to live with the land and grow organic apples. “Never take no for an answer,” he urged us energetically. “Don't listen to the negative thinkers who tell you its impossible. Where there's a will there's a way. They wouldn't let me join the farmer's market. What did I do? I organized my OWN farmer's market, and people were forming lines!” A New York city student told us about extending Community Supported Agriculture to low-income families in the Bronx. Best of all was the delightful gentleman who told us about the sustainable mill and bakery he ran with a cooperative of local grain farmers-- croissants from fresh and delicious Hudson Valley Wheat!

After attending workshops in the afternoon (all topics from permaculture to kombucha tea) we returned to Bard excited about all we'd learned. Freshman year, I used to volunteer for the Community Garden. I remember how muddy and exhausted I was after turning over the vegetable beds looking for bindweed. I loved the garden and I loved the idea of growing my own food. But I didn't understand why, in the grand scheme of things, little projects like our Bard Community Garden are so important. Now I understand why. Not to be melodramatic or anything, but it's an act of defiance and hope, against the global systems of agriculture who have us enfolded in their chains.

Agnostic about Recycling?

Some Bard students are recycling skeptics. "I watch the Aramark workers, and they just shove everything into the same bag!” Laurie (Department of Environmental Resources Head) assures you earnestly they have a separate paper recycling bag within their big plastic bag. Appearances can be misleading!

Other Bard students complain recycling is energy-inefficient. “All our recycling is shipped ridiculously long distances. In the long run, it creates more carbon emissions than the creation of new materials!” one Bard student told me, saying this was the result of his research during a think tank internship.

Well, let's see if transparency will convince the naysayers. What really happens to those valuable recycled materials once Aramark leaves them on the curb? A couple of very nice guys named Fred and Paul load the bags into their truck and bring them to the Bard recycling yard. Perhaps you have stumbled on this fenced area near SMOG, haunted by crows joyously feeding on compost. Under the eerie cries of the crows and in the haze of overwhelming stench, these materials accumulate in thirty-yard bins. Then the Royal Carding trucking company takes them away to Ulster County Resource Recovery agency.

Whence from there? The cans go to Kingston, where “Millens & Son, Saving the Planet since 1888,” salvages them. Besides providing the full array of metal recycling services, Millens & Son preserves the memory of “Gus, the Safety Dog,” whose photo features prominently on their website. Posed in front of an American flag and a panoramic view of Earth from space, this adorable puppy with a brown squished face tells us to “Live Green.”

Mountain View Recycling in Little Falls, NY takes the plastic bottles. Some plastics and whatnot go to K.C. International (located in the glorious town of Brick, New Jersey) but most of the paper goes to a plethora of little recycling companies scattered all over New York State. For example, Sierra Recyling in Clifton Park NY takes our newspapers, magazines, and paperback books. The only out-of-state paper recycler is North Shore Recyling in Salem, Massachusetts.

However, for a few tricky materials more complex than paper, we seemed force to rely on Haycore Canada Inc, in Russell, Ontario. Some would argue, doubtless the carbon-spewing trucks should not have to drive all the way to Canada. But its a natural result of Canada's more advanced recycling infrastructure. Recycling has long been mandatory for quite a few towns in Ontario. Maybe someday New York can hope to attain Canada's level of sophistication.

Moral of the story: the recycled materials do travel around, but not as much as you think. The vast majority of it seems to stay in New York. Making paper from paper still probably consumes less energy than making paper from virgin timber ripped from the land. So keep on dumping those essays in those friendly little red bins....

Are Bard students dirtier than a mouse?

It's an ordinary day. You're walking through Kline, wondering if they are serving pie for once. Suddenly the air is split by a shriek! “Is that a mouse?” cries the Kline lady. You look around wildly. There stands a cute Indian boy (my boyfriend, incidentally) with a little mouse peeping out of the coat of his gray hood.

“Its my new pet mouse,” says my boyfriend plaintively. “I named him Tachyon. He goes with me everywhere.”

“No mice allowed in the cafeteria,” says the Kline lady sternly. “Health regulations.”

At home, my boyfriend visits the place where every college student vents their wrath. No, not the ear of a sympathetic bartender-- Facebook. “Health regulations, my shiny metal butt,” he typed furiously. “Most of the people who enter Kline are way dirtier than Tachyon. Bah. Really, what is a mouse going to do to you? Kill you with his furriness? Or maybe gnaw you to death with the same mastication that takes 15 minutes to get through a grain of corn? Bah again.”

So is my boyfriend right? Are Bard students dirtier than a mouse?

What do you mean by “dirty?” The little mouse Tachyon emits feces which can promptly be reabsorbed into Mother Nature. On the other hand, the average American human produces 1600 pounds of trash per year, (not including industrial or commercial trash) according to the Environmental Protection Agency. In case you're bad with visualizing numbers (I know I am) that is roughly the weight of a full-grown female walrus.

By this inescapable logic (despite my daily showers and the quarters I feed the laundry machine) I am, in fact dirtier than a mouse. This is very distressing to me. So what can I do about it????
I can learn to recycle.

But when you think about it, the contest between me and Tachyon is a little unfair. Mother Nature has been practicing recycling for billions of years. In fact, every atom in your body has been recycled millions of times. Yes— the atoms which are now part of you, were once part of Jesus, a carrot, Susan B. Anthony, and a great sperm whale. It's all part of the glorious cycle of life. Human eats apple. Human is killed by swine flu. Nutrients in dead human are broken down by fungi. Apple tree absorbs nutrients. And so on.

But what I call the cycle of life comes to a grinding, screeching, halt, every time we make one of those mysterious substances that nature doesn't know how to break down. Dozens of industrial chemicals, and of course the infamous, ever-present plastic.

Although we all seem to agree that a majestic forest is infinitely more beautiful than a row of cartoon-character adorned cereal boxes, we keep on cutting down said forests to create said cereal boxes, with disturbing regularity. Of course the fungi get their slippery little tendrils over Cap'n Crunch's grinning visage eventually— but at least for now, the cereal boxes are in the lead.

The reason? While Mother Nature knows exactly what to do with Tachyon's cute little feces, humans are still struggling to find ways to efficiently turn their trash into treasure. Start viewing your trash in a new way. Before you throw something in the garbage can, think “How could this object be reused?” Stare deeply into the soul of that plastic bottle. Perhaps it is fated for a nobler destiny than the dump.


For example, trash can be recycled to create art. Bard BERPS have created a series of inspirational sculptures made out of recycled objects to place in their dormitory public spaces. I am especially proud of my fairytale castle, with a tower made from a mini Cheerios box and packing foam. I pay homage to nature's tremendous powers of recycling with a photo of a bee cut from a discarded children's book. Beside the bee is inscribed the motto, “Bees are cute. Bees recycle nectar,” (see photo above.)

In the hands of another talented BERP, the box of an old Star Wars game becomes another inspirational poster. (The Force bids you to RECYCLE! Come to the green side of the Force.) Another sculpture features an old plastic finding Nemo toy, along with the slogan, “Don't FIND Nemo, SAVE him!” And so on. Look around campus. You'll see posters everywhere of people recycling. And of course Barack Obama. Who tells us, “Yes we CAN!”

College against College: Recyclemania Showdown

Recyclemania is an inter-college competition that tracks which college can recycle the most over 8 weeks.

* Cue Dramatic Music *

A Bard student, magnificently dressed in rainbow scarves, a leather jacket, and a polka dot dress, strides boldly onto the stage. Her sleeves are adorned with buttons supporting various political, social, and ecological causes. She wields a copy of Kant in one hand, and a thermos of Fair Trade coffee in the other.

* Music turns Evil *

A Vassar student swaggers jauntily onto the stage, surrounded by a crowd of groupies. She is dressed in a sweater suit and pearls. She wields a copy of the Oprah magazine in one hand, and in the other (audience shudders in revulsion) a paper cup from Starbucks. The Bard student, bound to show her disapproval of this beverage travesty, bites her thumb at the Vassar student.

Naturally, this literary allusion to Shakespeare’s classic Romeo and Juliet goes right over the Vassar student’s head. So the Bard damsel is forced to register her disapproval in a cruder way, namely by flipping the bird.

Vassar wench: Do you flip your bird at us, madam?

Bard Damsel: I do flip my bird, madam.

Vassar wench: But do you flip your bird AT us, madam?

Bard Damsel: (speaking softly to her friend in the wings of the stage): Is the law of Botstein on our side, if I say ay?

Friend: No.

Bard Damsel: I do not flip my bird at you, madam, but I flip my bird, madam.

Vassar wench: Do you quarrel, madam?

Bard Damsel: Quarrel madam! no, madam.

Vassar Wench: If you do, madam, I am ready; for I am as well versed in the ways of Kant as you, and the claim that I spend my days reading cliff notes and watching American Idol is mere hearsay.

Bard Damsel: Well versed in Kant you may be; but can you RECYCLE?

Vassar wench (blanches in fear, then with a toss of her head, resumes her haughty dignity): Recycle? Why, in Vassar, we recycle a forest every day! The aluminum cans which we hath tossed in the recycling bins doth furnish the wherewithal to build entire airplanes!

Bard Damsel: Cease thy hollow boasting, foolish wastrel, lest you are prepared to engage in mortal combat with me, thy rival.

Vassar wench: Have at it then!!!

* The music swells to a dramatic crescendo. Piles of garbage, along with the appropriate recycling bins, are rolled onto the stage. Both warriors begin furiously chucking things into the bins. *

Bard Damsel: Lo and behold! For my stock of recycled food scraps to put into composting is far greater than thine!

Vassar wench (sneering): That’s because Bard students don’t know how to clean their plates!

Bard Damsel: Nay, but lo and behold! For the statistics show that last year Bard was the all-USA food scraps CHAMPION!

Vassar wench: Speak not to me again of the disgusting offal that remains from your piggish food orgies at Kline!

* the clang clanging of cans going into bins escalates in rhythm and intensity. *

Bard Damsel: Ah-ha-ha! Know you not, ignorant Vassar varlet, that all containers must be rinsed and have their caps removed before being placed in the recycling bin?

Vassar wench: Aaaaaaarrgh! (Retrieves the last 100 bottles she has placed in the recycling bin and begins to wash them.)

Bard Damsel (speaking to herself): I begin to see now why they say that 3% of America’s energy is used to produce packaging. I must lay my plans well, and bring about a revolution that will transform the system of this decadent imperialistic country!

(Vassar wench holds up a used printer cartridge, a confused expression on her vapidly pretty face. She tosses her blond curls and pouts in puzzlement.)

Bard Damsel (rubbing her hands together): Mwa-ha-ha! The Vassar wench does not even know that printer cartridges, CFLs, batteries, cell phones, plastic bags, and other hazardous items must be placed in the BERP box or brought to the nearest BERP for proper disposal!

(BERP = Bard Environmental Resource Person)

Vassar wench: Well, Vassar doesn’t have BERPs! Vassar has VERPs! Bard student, beware the dread wrath of VERPly might! (She throws the last of her aluminum cans into the bin with a defiant crash.)

Bard Damsel (letting the last load of Free Press papers slide into the recycling bin): I am finished!

Vassar wench: I too am finished!

Bard Damsel: Let the weighing commence!

A giant pair of scales is brought onto the stage, and loaded up with the recycling bins from either team. The suspense has everyone on the razor’s edge. The audience is holding their collective breath.

Bard Damsel (interjects cheerily): Did you know that Americans throw away enough paper every year to build a twelve-foot high wall from Los Angeles to New York?

Vassar wench: Be silent, fool! The moment of truth is approaching. (The scales sway, then steady. The audience breaks out into a roar.)

Ringmaster: Lo and behold! The Vassar Team and the Bard Team are exactly tied.

The Vassar wench gets a wild look on her face, glugs the last of her Starbucks, and then throws her paper cup into the recycling container on her side of the scale. The balance tips ever-so-slightly in her favor. She cackles in evil triumph.

Vassar wench: Behold! I have triumphed!

Bard Damsel in Distress: NOOOOooooOOOOooooooOOOOOooo!!!!! (clutches hands to head and collapses onto the stage like a melting witch.)

* Close curtains *

So, I’m sure you’ve gotten the message by now. Recycling something is great, but not using it in the first place is even better.

The question I struggled with when writing this blog, is WHY is recycling so hard to do? Why do we have to hold exciting intercollegiate competitions with names like Recyclemania? Why isn’t it just something everyone does as a matter of habit?

Well, forgetting to recycle still carries very little social stigma. And recycling initiatives in the USA are still mostly voluntary. When I lived in Canada, the garbagemen wouldn’t pick up the bags at the curb, unless we had properly sorted into wet recycling, dry recycling, and landfill. You always felt guilty if you saw you had more landfill bags than your neighbors. True, we lived in Guelph, Ontario, where the Green Party enjoys unusual levels of support.

A cynic would say that appealing to the goodness of our hearts and posting signs around campus isn’t enough to make us change our ways. Well, let’s prove the cynics wrong: Let’s recycle more, and use less, than we ever have before! Not because BERPS will be hovering around waiting to give raffle tickets to people who are “caught green-handed” (although they will.) But because we have to live up to our reputation (acknowledged by the Fiske Guide to Colleges) as one of the most socially aware campuses in the United States.

Ecovillage at Ithaca

While the slow and lumbersome governmental beast ambles (hopefully) towards some type of climate-related legislation, there are plenty of people who aren’t willing to wait for the politicians. Bard students are entering Recyclemania season (more about that later). Sustainable Hudson Valley Organization is dashing about urging people to take up the “10% Challenge” (10% reduction in emissions by the end of 2010!). And right here in New York, people are building ecovillages-- intentional communities, created to resolve that perpetual dispute between man and nature.

Over Thanksgiving Break I paid a visit to the Ecovillage at Ithaca. I’m writing my Senior Project on ecovillages. Ever since I heard of them, I’ve been in love with the idea. And you know the usual fate of those starry-eyed idealists who fall in love with an idea. Their dream falls to pieces before their eyes; the people they idolize fall off their pedestals; their hearts and souls are brutally crushed on the harsh wheel of reality. So I got on the bus for Ithaca with some trepidation. Would the ecovillage (the REAL ecovillage, at last— after reading books about them for weeks!) be everything I dreamed it would be? Or would I meet only with disappointment?

I stumbled with my suitcase through the dark to the Common House. There I found the ecovillagers dining, and a plate set aside especially for me-- the most delicious vegetarian meal I had ever eaten! I was warmly invited to join a table, and sat down and listened to my heart’s content. The conversation was very much like it is at Bard College; wry humor, talk of social justice, a little good-natured teasing. They teased me for being “an anthropologist come to study them,” and joked that “maybe we should act weird or something,” so I would have something interesting to write down about them. The impression was very much that of ordinary people, mildly surprised and amused to find themselves at the center of all this fuss. “We have a nice shelf of all these theses people write about us,” one of the elderly gentleman laughed.

I had this little list of interview questions, stamped and approved by the Bard Institutional Research Board. One of the questions was, “What influence do you think the Global Ecovillage Movement will have on the future of the world?” A sweet lady named Graham (“like the cracker!”) had consented to be interviewed after I helped her spread mulch on her garden. When I came to that question she laughed and said, “Oh my goodness, I don’t know. I mean, I’m sure there are people in the ecovillage who are thinking about that. But I don’t think about that— I’d rather be out…. planting garlic or something, you know!”

I had a couple of tour guides over the weekend. There was a Cornell professor who talked on very impressively about solar panels and insulated homes and straw-bale housing and the economic efficiency of shared resources, arrays of facts and figures. The vanguard of the war on global warming, so to speak. The other guide was a longtime ecovillage resident named Jim who entertained himself during the tour by making off-putting jokes. Showing us the root cellar, he said, “This is where we lock up people we don’t like. Ah ha ha!” Then, wandering into the Common House’s Recreation Room, we stumbled upon a couple of normal-looking teenagers enjoying a foosball table. With a grand flourish (as if displaying a couple of savages clad in nothing but war paint and eagle feathers) Jim proclaimed, “There are the REAL ecovillagers! You can observe them in their Native Environment.” The teenagers were startled, their foosball game interrupted by a group of twenty people staring at them intently. Then, catching onto the joke, they started making loud monkey noises and jumping about. I snorted laughter into my hand as we excited the building.

Besides taking the tour, I also ate the Thanksgiving meal with the ecovillagers. A potluck of about fifty people crowded themselves into the Common House dining room. We began the meal by singing a song together, and then there was a “Grateful Ritual.” Everyone said a sentence about what they were grateful for, and lighted a little candle next to their plate. One golden-haired young child said he was grateful for, “All the love and smiles which inhabit this Earth,” and I just about died from the cuteness of it. A lady with a mischievous smile proclaimed, “I say this every year—I’m grateful for chocolate!” Most people were grateful for food and family. I found it all incredibly moving, but I admit that fifty people are rather a lot to listen to on a hungry afternoon. Towards the end one grumpy old man (who’s stomach must have been rumbling) stood up and said, “I’m grateful this Grateful Ritual will be over soon….”

It was so fun laughing and chatting with everyone. Imagine Kline cafeteria at Bard, only with people of all different ages and much better food. I exchanged stories with a retired old lady who had (like me) had traveled to Africa. And this cute kid told me about naming the fish in the local pond. “We named one of them Gold-y, and another fish we named Orange-y, and then one of the fish died and floated to the top, and Daddy named THAT fish Dead-y…..”

When we had all stuffed ourselves, a group of enthusiasts clamored for the musicians in the group to perform“Uncle Dave’s Grace,” apparently a Thanksgiving tradition there. I’ll give you some of the lyrics:

Thanksgiving day, Uncle Dave was our guest
He reads the Progressive, which makes him depressed.
We asked Uncle Dave if he’d like to say grace,
A dark desolation crept over his face

“Thanks,” he began as he gazed at his knife,
“To poor Mr. Turkey for living his life
All crowded and cramped in a great metal shed
Where life was a drag, then they cut off his head.”

“Thanks,” he went on, “for the grapes in my wine
Picked by sick women of seventy-nine
Scrambling all morning for bunch after bunch
Then brushing the pesticides off of their lunch.”

It goes on like that for nine or ten verses, everything from jungles cut down to make our chairs, to unrenewable fossil fuels heating our rooms, to mines that make silverware polluting rivers; the whole kaboodle. Feel free to Google it, but I won’t inflict it all on you here. I’ll just skip to the end.

Sighed Uncle Dave, “though there’s more to be told
The wine’s getting warm and the bird’s getting cold”
And with that he sat down as he mumbled again
“Thank you for everything, amen”

We felt so guilty when he was all through
It seemed there was one of two things we could do
Live without food, in the nude, in a cave,
Or next year have someone say grace besides Dave.

It was the first time I had heard that song. I was struck by how it combined a passion for social justice with an ironic sense of humor. As someone who tends to be a little bit overly zealous, I’m accustomed to people wincing when I show signs of launching into some rant. But this song made me feel compassion for the people who end up on the receiving end of my rants, so to speak. I can imagine the Grandma resting her head in her hands after Uncle Dave’s speech, thinking, “Good grief! I just wanted to have a nice family dinner…….. No one’s going to enjoy my cooking now….”

That song was very typical of Ecovillage at Ithaca in general. People clearly felt deeply about environmental and social justice. (The Bed ‘n Breakfast I stayed at was run by a woman who had started a nonprofit to help the 3rd world.) But they didn’t like making speeches. They didn’t take themselves too seriously. They knew how to laugh at themselves. I’m used to living among college students, some of whom take themselves very, very, seriously. But if you can’t see the humor of it all, you’re just like poor Uncle Dave: broadcasting doom, gloom, and destruction everywhere he goes.

The moral of the song is, don’t be like Uncle Dave!!! When people hear that kind of rhetoric, they get overwhelmed. They feel like their choices have narrowed to “living in a cave” or trying not to think about it. While the world boils because of global warming, and the genocides rampage unchecked, and the child workers in the factories in China make knicks and knacks for our greedy American appetites….. I’m sure you’ve all written some variation on that essay.

What if the world isn’t saved by the grand theories we write in our essays, but by the simple things? Simple things like planting garlic. Or planting a tree, or giving hugs, or dropping a can in the recycling bin. (Recyclemania! More to come in following blogs!) Surprisingly enough, you can save the world without being pretentious about it…….

I can blather about paradigm shifts and “alternative modes of living,” about “addressing society’s problems at a systemic level,” social fragmentation, and crass consumerism. But I’m sure you’ve all heard that all before. So I’m just going to keep it simple:

Ecovillage at Ithaca was pretty special. It wasn’t just a matter of chickens, or solar panels, or Community Supported Agriculture, even though those are all awesome things to have. I keep talking about how much the social atmosphere reminded me so much of Bard. See, there was a reason for that.

Bard is an amazing place because of the degree of community we enjoy here. Sometimes I have the feeling of being nestled in the center of a giant extended family. My friends are like my immediate family, but even the most distant Bard acquaintance is like a cousin-once-removed, whom I may, if I choose, address in a tone of friendly camaraderie.

I don’t like to think how many of us lose that after graduating. The naturally gregarious, perhaps, continue to maintain extended social groups, but I can’t keep count of the number of adults who have said to me, “College? Those were the best years of my life!” The idea that at the age of twenty one, I have already passed over the peak of my happiness, is horrifying to me. But I think the reason people remember college as a golden age is because of the friendships they formed there. Friendships which are no longer so easier to form, once you cannot meet people in the cafeteria and the dormitory.

The Ecovillage at Ithaca was founded to help the planet by sharing and using fewer resources. But the side-effect of sharing resources was a communal kind of living which did much to connect neighbor to neighbor. These people went on to become adults without giving up what I think of as the best part of college life.
As I waited for the taxi to take me away from Ecovillage at Ithaca, I listen to some woman hollering a conversation from one house to another. In an earlier era of American history, such a conversation would have been commonplace. I don’t know how commonplace such conversations are now. It went something like this:

“I grew a giant squash! I’m putting half of it in the Common House cooler for you to cook this evening, okay?”

“How do I coooook it!”

“I don’t know. Cut it up or something. Sprinkle salt and paper and broil it for a few minutes.”

“How many minutes?”

“How should I know? Until it looks done!”

(Another woman joining in) “I have some celery you can use.”

“What if I put the celery in a soup?”

“Squash soup! Mmmmmm delicious….. I can’t wait!”

I’m sure every Bard student wants to make her or his mark on the world. I really believe every one of you is going to go out there and do great deeds. But the great deeds won’t be what makes life worth living. What makes life worth living is the preciousness of everyday things. Like yummy squash soup.

So hold onto your sense of humor. Appreciate the everyday things. Work to make a difference in the world, sure, but seek out an environment where people love you and a state of mind where you love yourself. And that’s all I’ve got for today.